Living with Rockets: Waiting for Peace to Make an Appearance

As I travel down to Sderot to begin another week working at our Sderot Media Center office, I'm reminded of Shakespeare's famous line: "All the world's a stage." Sderot, a small Israeli city located less than a mile away from Gaza, is in its own right a stage for weekly rocket attacks, post trauma victims and visiting politicians.

The recent cease-fire, which began on January 18, 2009 has not changed anything. Sderot residents are still taking refuge in bomb shelters weekly, the siren known as Tzeva Adom (Color Red) is still going off and rockets are still exploding across the western Negev. The unilateral cease-fire with Hamas has brought, thus far, over 120 rockets raining down on Israel - and not a peep of condemnation from any international actor or the UN.

As I sit on the bus, thinking of everything that has come to pass in recent months, I overhear a Sderot mother speaking to her babysitter back home. It's 10:30 at night, and a rocket has apparently been fired at Sderot. "There was a siren?!" she exclaims anxiously. "Are the kids OK? Are they in bed?" "I'm so afraid to leave the house with the kids home, and finally when I do, this has to happen," she says despondently, almost to herself.

It's a Tuesday night in March and the rockets are continuing to strike fear into the hearts of Sderot parents and children. For a Kassam rocket to come down anywhere, destroying any home or building, is just as probable now as it was during the war two months ago.

When I first began working in Sderot almost two years ago, I didn't know the real meaning of terror. I had never personally experienced a suicide attack or a bus bombing in Jerusalem. When the media center director interviewed me for the job, he asked me how I dealt with terrorist attacks. I told him I had no idea.

I can write that I now have, unfortunately, a very firm idea of what terror is and what it can do to you, both physically and psychologically. In the past few months, I have witnessed rocket terror attacks that remain imprinted in my mind.

Back in December 2008, the Color Red alarm had gone off one day during work, part of the daily routine, warning of an impending rocket. Our center had no available bomb shelter at that time, so the staff and I would simply leave the computer stations and crowd into the center of the office, away from the windows. This time around I didn't feel like getting up, but Eliran, our technician, forced me to and I joined everyone else.

And then we all heard it together - the shriek of the rocket as it sailed over our center and came down with a tremendous explosion about 50 meters away. I felt the air stir as the rocket landed, and heard people crying out.

We were all in shock.

I remember just standing there, my mind blank. Inside I was shaking, but then I began working in media mode. The only thing we can do when this happens is document the attack.

Miraculously, the rocket did not hit a building or physically injure anyone. It had found itself an isolated corner and buried itself deep in the ground. However, the explosion had caused all the office windows in the area to shatter. I entered a barbershop, a travel agency, a computer repair shop - there were pieces of broken glass and debris littering the desks and floors everywhere.

The barber stood in shock. A woman outside was convulsing - trembling to the point that she had no control of her body. Ambulances arrived. Everyone had made it to the shelter in time, within the 15 seconds of the siren sounding. Had anyone remained standing near a window, the exploding glass would have caused some very serious injuries.

I lost my appetite that day.

After that attack, it was very difficult for me to return to work. Each time I entered Sderot, I did so only by pushing my rational thoughts aside. I began to realize the rockets could fall anywhere and that I could very well be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I remember waking up one morning to the sound of a siren and then realizing that I was sleeping in Jerusalem. There was no alarm - it was just in my head.

I call this abnormal - it is abnormal that I have to be afraid and find myself racing to a bomb shelter several times a week when I'm in Sderot. It is abnormal that today close to 1 million Israelis in the south of the country are now threatened by Hamas rockets.

Two weeks ago, two US congressmen came to visit Sderot for an hour, after spending an entire day in Gaza. Representatives Keith Ellison (D-Minnesota) and Brian Baird (D-Washington) toured the city, visiting area bomb shelters, protected schools and the Amar family, whom President Obama also visited during his campaign last year after their home was destroyed by a direct rocket hit.

At the police station, against the backdrop of the stored remains of Kassams, the Congressmen asked many questions. As I was the translator, I had the opportunity to get a first-hand impression of the visitors. At one point, Congressman Ellison picked up a Kassam and pointed out how heavy it was. "I could work out with this," he joked. 

I wondered if the Congressmen truly understood the kind of impact that eight years of rocket fire has on a civilian population. After all, it took me two years to completely grasp it. In any case, in their press release on their visit to the Middle East, Rep. Baird and Ellison spoke primarily on Gaza, barely mentioning Sderot or southern Israel.

I only hope the world does not ignore the major role  Hamas continues to play on this stage. As rocket fire continues, and Hamas once again rebuilds its military infrastructure and rocket supply, Sderot and Palestinian civilians can only wonder if peace will ever make a permanent appearance in this region.